


from love to disdain

by Sonorus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal, Angry Sex, Angst, Blood! A little, Bottom Louis, But not from Louis or Harry, Dark Harry but I swear there's a reason, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Guess their Hogwarts houses lol, Harry Potter AU, Hate Sex, He tortures people for fun, It's from Louis' "prey", Jealous Harry, Legilimens Harry, Lovers To Enemies, M/M, Manhandling, Oh yeah mentions of Zayn because I gotta, Rimming, Smut, Sort Of, They're both wizards, They're exes, Top Harry, blowjob, breath play, mentions of cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 13:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18942148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonorus/pseuds/Sonorus
Summary: “Pray tell, what have you done now, Louis?”Louis stilled. He recognised that voice. He knew it all too well. And the last time he heard it, Louis had the tip of his wand pressed against the person’s throat, his own voice trembling as he pleaded, “Just leave me alone. Please, we can’t do this anymore,” with his eyes glimmering with unshed tears.“Harry?”Or, Louis is a wizard who’s slowly leaning towards the dark side and Harry is his toxic ex-boyfriend that he hasn’t seen in three years. Due to a wrongly conjured spell, they end up bound together in chains, fighting to get out of them – literally.





	from love to disdain

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! sooo this is my first ever work on here so fingers crossed you guys actually like it. i haven't written in quite a while, especially smut, so it might be a bit rusty but please do give it a chance! there may be a bit of inaccuracies regarding magic but let's ignore that. i wanted it to work my way. feel free to leave some feedback x
> 
>  
> 
> title from: misunderstood by dream theatre

 

“What, you really think so lowly of me? That I, me, moi, would kill you?” Louis asked with a scoff, eyeing the tied-up man that he had kidnapped for the night. See, this was a thing the wizard usually did whenever he got too angry. Kidnap someone, torture them however he pleased, then heal them, wipe away their memory, and let them go as if nothing happened. He kept telling himself that there’s nothing to be guilty of for he wasn’t really damaging them, not at all. It was just for the night, only for a few hours, and he had a way of hiding this from the Ministry of Magic. He almost slipped once, but managed to get away with it again.

The man was somewhere in his late twenties, drunk off his ass, too. He was crying, sobbing, spit and blood dripping and the noises he made annoyed Louis too much, but not enough for him to silence him. He was enjoying his remarks. Constructive criticism, Louis thought of them. “I’m no killer, Mr. Drunk,” he said, looking down at the knife in his hand, wand tucked into his pocket. “I’m a human being, just like you,” he pointed at Drunk with the knife whilst saying the last word, raising an eyebrow. “If I killed you, I’d never forgive myself.”

“Yet you’re torturing me.”

“Yeah, I am,” he grinned. That stupid innocent grin that always got him out of certain situations, made people either love him or loathe him depending on what kind of conversation they’re having. “However,”— _clang!_ Somewhere far ahead of them, there was somebody, Louis was sure of it, and the grin was suddenly wiped off his face and he was all eyes and ears. His victim could even feel his fear, who felt the need to speak, “Not so tough now, huh?”

“Silencio!” Louis said through gritted teeth after he had whipped out his wand and pointed it at the male. No matter how hard he tried to speak now, nothing came out. His voice was gone, but that wasn’t safe enough for Louis. If anyone found him, he was fucked. The healing process could take a long time – time that Louis did not have. The only choice he had to not get caught was walk up a few steps until he was behind Drunk, point his wand at him and whisper, “Obliviate.” And that’s exactly what he did. With that, Drunk forgot about the wizard. He was left in a confused state as to why he was tied up and bloody and in pain with no voice, but he was going to come back to him later, after he finds the source of the noise.

A few more cautious steps later, with his wand in one hand and knife in the other, gripped tightly, the blue-eyed lad saw a silhouette not too far from him. He didn’t have time to analyse it any longer, for he wanted to stay safe, and so, he circled the wand around him to cast a spell that would chain up the other person, but with a mistake in the incantation (it was a spell he had made up, one that was not yet perfected), he ended up chaining the _two_ of them together. “What the f—” and there he was, swept off his feet with a chain wrapped tightly around him, upside down, back pressed against the other person’s. And for a solid minute, he was stuck in a silent state of shock.

The other person seemed to have started to squirm for a moment, but stopped as soon as the two of them were pressed against each other. Louis, on the other hand, started squirming and thrashing again, trying to free himself of the chains, hissing under his breath – alas, to no avail, for the chains only seemed to tighten even more around them. “I can’t believe _this_ is the only thing that worked in the spell!” he grumbled, talking about how tight the metal felt against his skin. Indeed, when he first came up with it, he wanted the chains to tighten with each of the target’s movements so they wouldn’t be able to get out of them.

“Pray tell, what have you done now, Louis?”

Louis stilled. He recognised that voice. He knew it all too well. And the last time he heard it, Louis had the tip of his wand pressed against the person’s throat, his own voice trembling as he pleaded, “Just leave me alone. Please, we can’t do this anymore,” with his eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

“Harry?”

“Ah, so you remember me,” Harry tilted his head to the side, trying to look at Louis. “You haven’t forgotten my voice.”

“Can’t forget the sound of you moaning as you ate someone out in _our_ bed, now can I?” Louis spat. “Asking _someone else_ to cum for you with your fingers knuckles-deep in them where _I slept_.”

Harry chuckled. Nothing was humourful about it. “Are you ever going to let go of that?”

“ _Let go_ of that?” Louis snapped. “ _Let go of—_ fuck you, Harry. You broke my heart and you’re asking me to let go of it? Have you no shame? No fucking heart at all?”

“I come from the darkest lineage in the wizarding world, can’t believe you’d ask me a question that you know the exact answer for.”

Louis felt his heart break all over again. Everything he did, everything he’s sought after in order to get over his former lover gone in a minute. In a blink. It all crumbled down right in front of him and Louis wanted to _strangle_ Harry. He wanted to _kill_ him. Replace him with Drunk.

“Tell me now, did you find someone to fuck your cunt better than I did?”

“ _Fuck you._ ”

“Been there, done that,” Harry said nonchalantly. “If you could just get us out of these chains, I’d love to do it again.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Louis’ face was heating up with anger, and quite frankly, his lower abdomen was, too. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Uh – you’re not moving, so technically you’re not doing anything.”

“I can’t bloody move, you dafty. Otherwise they’d tighten.”

Harry tsked. “Is it one of yours? The ideas behind your spells were always the best, they just always had a flaw in them. Remember the one you casted to keep me away from our h— oh, pardon me, _your_ house—as you insisted—when you broke up with me?”

“Yeah, it kept you away for three years, I think I did just fine with it,” Louis answered as he fumbled to point his wand at the chains.

“Sweetheart, I was visiting you whenever you were sleeping for the first year.”

Louis’ face scrunched. “You were fucking stalking me?”

“I wouldn’t call it stalking,” Harry acted like they were having a casual conversation as they were held up by chains upside down. “Was just coming to check up on you. Make sure you were alright.”

“Should’ve thought of wanting me to _be alright_ before you fucked someone else without caring about me finding out.”

“Would it have made any difference if I went for extra measures to make sure you didn’t find out?”

Louis scoffed, kicking Harry’s shin. “You’re fucking sick.” He was worried about them falling on their heads after they’re unchained, but at this point, he didn’t care – he’d save himself from the fall, but let Harry get hurt instead. A part of Louis still didn’t want to hurt him.

“I think a lot about the look in your eyes the last time you looked at me,” Harry continued with a different conversation. “You were so broken, Lou. You were shaking, and I don’t know if it was because of anger or heartbreak. But I could almost feel how tight your chest felt – _almost_ – if I had a heart, that is, according to how you see me.”

“You _have_ no fucking heart, Styles,” Louis said in a low voice, one that was shaking, almost identical to how he sounded in the memory Harry was talking about. “I know that your heart isn’t there. It never was. I fell for your body. That’s it.” That was a lie.

“Oh– what a coincidence, likewise,” Harry grinned. “You have a great arse.”

“An arse that you can’t have anymore.” As he said that, he casted a spell that shot at the chains on their sides, one that grazed over Harry’s arm and resulted in a cut (Louis may have done that on purpose), but before the two of them could fall on their heads, Louis gripped onto the metals to hang from them, and Harry—being a legilimens—knew what Louis was doing before it happened, and did the same thing. Then, they both let go and landed on their feet, Louis almost defensively stepping back and pointing his wand at Harry. “Don’t fucking come near me.”

“Come on now, is this how you greet an old friend?” Harry stepped forward. “A person you spent two years with?” as he spoke, he got closer and closer, until the wand was pressed to the middle of his chest, his knuckles brushing over Louis’ cheekbone.

Louis moved his head away, his teeth gritting. His hand dropped to the side, as the other one pushed at Harry’s chest, watching him stumble back, but still stayed on his feet. “Yes, that’s exactly how I’m supposed to greet you. This is the bare minimum. I’m supposed to be fucking _strangling_ you right now.”

“Fucking, without strangling, please,” Harry corrected.

Louis ignored that. “What are you even doing here? You’re supposed to be on the other side of the country. I made sure to stay as far away from you as possible,” he told him. “Ruining one of my hunts on purpose, aren’t you? As you do everything else in my life.” His tone was angry. Bitter. Holding back the urge to throw a punch.

“I did come here to ruin something on purpose, but not a hunt of yours,” Harry said. “You have a date tomorrow, don’t you? With…with…” he snapped his fingers a few times, trying to remember. “John!” he pointed his index at Louis. “John, was it?”

“Who?”

“Pretty French boy? Black? Curly hair – seems like you have a thing for curls, Tomlinson.”

“First of all, his name is Jean. Secondly, the curly hair’s the only thing you have in common. For instance, he seems caring. He’s kind. The hell do you have to offer other than some good fucking?”

Harry bobbed his head from side to side with pursed lips, as if he was weighing some options or trying to think of something he’s good at. “Nothing. You seemed to like it.”

“ _God_ , Harry, I fucking _hate_ you!”

“That’s not what you seemed to say when I was fucking you.”

“It’s exactly what I started thinking the moment I walked in on you with your head between someone else’s legs. It’s _exactly_ what I started thinking when you fucking looked back at me and shoved your fingers inside of her, urging her to cum whilst still _looking at me_ ,” Louis pointed at himself, his eyes brimming with tears of anger. “What kind of heart do you have?”

“None, remember?” Harry started stepping closer, Louis stepping backwards. “But it was to show you how I felt when you went with that other guy behind my back. You think I don’t know?” Harry raised his brows. “Zayn was his name, wasn’t it?”

“We didn’t do anything.”

“Bullshit,” Harry snapped. “I heard everything you were thinking of. I read your mind.”

“Nothing fucking h—”

Harry gripped Louis’ hair in his hand, something that always managed to make him weak at the knees. “Stop fucking lying to me, Tomlinson,” he seethed. “Everything I did that night was to break your heart the way you broke mine. A heart that’s barely there yet I gave it to _you_ and no one else. You know I loved you. Somewhere deep down in here”—he roughly pointed with the index of his other hand against the middle of Louis’ chest—“you _know_ that I loved you. You _know_ you were the one that took the first step that caused our relationship to deteriorate. You _know_ that when it comes down to it, it was all _your fault_.” At this point, Harry had Louis putty in his hands, pinning his lower body against a tree with his leg between the other’s, the grip on his hair only tightening by the minute. “You know every detail of it, yet you keep living in denial.”

“You broke my heart just the same,” Louis shakily said, looking up at him, scalp burning from the grip and his nostrils flaring as he sniffled, not bothering to fight back the tears that were on the verge of falling. “You broke my heart ten times harder.”

“I had to, baby,” Harry shushed, wiping away a fresh tear from right underneath Louis’ eye, his face inching closer, gaze on his glistening lips. “I had to give you a taste of your own medicine, even if it was the entire bottle instead of a little dosage.” He closed the gap between their lips, the kiss fervent, deep, both pairs moving, neither of them wanting to pull back. It was as if the two of them were craving this for a long time – past the anger, the heartbreak, the toxicity of their relationship when the cheating started, they both wanted the other – _needed_ the other.

Louis was crying. He was kissing him and he was crying and he was a mess and he missed Harry so much but he also hated him _so much_. He hated his own body for reacting to every touch, he hated himself for _wanting_ Harry to fuck him again.

Harry, too, couldn’t stop kissing Louis. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t – he couldn’t keep his hands off the boy. His knee lifted, pressing against Louis’ crouch, rubbing, and Louis couldn’t help but let out a helpless whimper, feeling his cock harden underneath the touch. He had to break the kiss, head tilting back and hitting against the tree, whilst Harry’s hand was now gripping the nape of his neck instead. “That’s right, baby,” the curly-haired lad whispered, littering kisses along his jawline until he reached his neck, his kisses wet. “Still want me to fuck you, huh?”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I loathe you,” Louis responded, hand gripping Harry’s shirt to hold him closer, now grinding down against his knee. His mouth fell agape, lips so shiny in the moonlit night that Harry couldn’t stop staring at them, and for a moment – just a moment – he forgot about all the heartache that the smaller boy had caused; forgot about the ache in his chest on some days, and the void on other days – all because he missed him.

That moment was gone as quick as it came, and Harry’s blood was boiling again, at this point unsure of whether it was arousal or anger. “Did Zayn touch you like that?” he whispered, taking his earlobe between his teeth as his hand splayed over his sweatpants-covered arse, squeezing harshly, pushing a moan out of him. “Did he, Louis?”

“I never—never slept with Zayn,” he stuttered out, lost in the feeling of the friction on his clothed cock, a wet spot starting to form from his leaking cockhead.

That, though, was soon gone as Harry dropped his leg, fingers now wrapped around Louis’ throat, thumb pressing down against the skin, but not enough to stop the airflow, only slightly reduce it. “You seem to forget that I can read your mind,” he said between gritted teeth, “I can see right through you.”

Louis opened his eyes, his dick throbbing and begging for more contact again, but he wasn’t going to show it. He wasn’t going to show how weak he was already, how badly he wanted Harry, and tried to not even _think_ of it, because he knew that Harry would be able to tell. “If you just gave me a fucking chance to tell you what happened, perhaps you’d know that not everything you hear is accurate,” Louis snapped back. “And stop reading my mind, for fuck’s sake.”

Harry looked into his eyes for a few moments, jaw clenched, before his grip on his throat tightened, lips hovering over Louis’ as he whispered, “Everything I hear will always be accurate.” He took Louis’ lower lip between his teeth, biting down, harsh enough to draw blood and cause a whimper to stumble past the back of Louis’ throat, who let his hands travel down to Harry’s jeans, undoing them and pushing them down – as well as he could with the hand around his throat that was weakening him by the second. Harry noticed that and loosened his grip again, and then completely let go, but not after his nails dragged down the side of Louis’ neck, pushing his shirt down to expose the collarbones that he always loved oh-so much.

Louis managed to push Harry’s pants down just enough to take his cock out, the taller boy shivering as the cool air hit his leaking tip, eyes falling shut momentarily when Louis swiped his thumb over the slit, smearing the pre-cum that built up there. “Looks like I can still make you just as weak,” Louis mumbled, watching Harry’s every reaction. In response to that, Harry brought a hand up and covered Louis’ mouth with his palm, shutting him up and looking him right in the eye, as if he was silently telling him to carry on. Telling – not asking.

And the blue-eyed lad got the message. His fingers wrapped around Harry’s fattening cock, giving it slow tugs, but Harry still was lost in the feeling, his breath quickening, a shaky exhale leaving him. Louis smeared whatever pre-cum that leaked down his cock, barely reaching past the head—especially with them being outside—his half-lidded eyes focused on Harry’s face.

The slow moment was soon ripped away as Harry stepped back and pushed Louis down to his knees, his tone stern as he said, “Suck it,” he pushed his hair back, then fisted it in his hand, “I know you want to.”

Louis, incapable of denying it, did as told. His hand was wrapped around the base whilst his mouth wrapped around the head and only that, tonguing at the slit as he sucked harshly, a technique of his that always pulled a moan from Harry, whose head was thrown back, eyes closed and lips parted, not bothering to hold back any noise of his.

The smaller one pulled back, littering kisses along the underside of his dick as he said, again, “You’re weak,” he swiped his tongue between his balls as he looked up at him, “because of me.”

“You never keep your mouth shut, do you?” Harry spat, looking down at him again. That was the last straw. When his cock was back in Louis’ mouth, Harry took control again – his hips snapped forward and then he was thrusting into it, not caring about Louis gagging or choking him; in fact, he wanted to do exactly that. His hand held Louis’ head in place, watching the way his dick moved past his wet lips, the way his eyes were screwed shut and little strands of hair were falling loose on his forehead, and he wanted to _wreck_ him.

He pushed Louis’ head down on his cock, all the way, knowing that Louis has always been his cockslut that could take it all, feeling his nose press against his navel and his bottom lip was right by his balls, holding him in place. His chest was stuttering and his toes were curling in his boots, savouring the feeling of Louis’ warm throat engulfing him, allowing a shaky grunt to escape. “Fucking whore,” he growled. “Take it, hold it there.” He didn’t pull back until he knew that Louis _really_ needed some oxygen, not only because he can see past him, but also because he was digging his nails into Harry’s hips, something that he noticed from the two years they’ve spent together that it means ‘give me a second, I need to breathe.’

When he did so, Louis inhaled sharply, blinking a few times, a tear or two falling and a string of saliva connected from his lip to the tip of Harry’s cock. “You got your breath? Good,” and his cock was back in Louis’ throat. “This is for every time your filthy thoughts were about Zayn,” he breathed, grip on his hair tightening, emitting a whimper of pain from Louis, “ _around me_.”

Again, he pulled back, and Louis went to speak but Harry cut him off before he could, “Shut up,” followed by his dick back in his mouth, this time fucking it, his movements quick and rough and messy.

When he felt a bubbling heat in his lower abdomen, he pulled back so suddenly that Louis started to cough, already looking so fucked out with his wet cheeks and mouth and red face. “You know, I always wondered,” as Harry spoke, he pushed Louis down to his front and pulled his hips up, then got down on his knees behind him, fingers hooking into the waistband of his sweats to pull them down along with his underwear, “if you went to Zayn after me,” his hands spread Louis’ cheeks apart, who had the side of his face pressed against the ground, still trying to catch his breath to respond to anything Harry said – all of his responses were physical, pushing against Harry’s touches, wanting more of him, “if you let him fuck you open,” his index finger ran between his spread arse, over his hole, his thumb rubbing against it after, “the way you used to beg me to.”

Harry leaned down, tongue swiping against Louis’ entrance, moaning at the way he tasted. “Did he lick you out, baby?” He tongued at it messily, so wetly, trying to get him as lubed up as possible, earning a whimper from the lad, who seemed to push further against his tongue, “because if not,” he continued after pulling back momentarily, then went back in, pushing his tongue past the muscle, nails digging into his cheeks. He pulled away again, finger replacing his tongue, smearing his spit around, then pushed it in, watching the way Louis’ back arched, “then he’s really missing out.”

“I t-told you,” Louis finally said, “I never fucking slept with him.”

Harry sighed, his finger pushing in knuckle deep as he calmly said, “That’s getting a bit old, babe.”

“Would you stop being a fucking asshole for a minute?” Louis snapped.

Harry’s finger stilled. “Sorry, what? You want me to stop finger-fucking your asshole?”

“No, no—”

“Yeah, s’what I thought,” Harry grinned, pulling out his finger before he went in with two instead, stretching him out. “Look at that, your cunt’s so eager for me,” his other hand slid between Louis’ legs, brushing over his balls before he got to wrap his fingers around his cock, pumping him, and if Louis wasn’t lost in complete bliss, he would’ve tried to deny that – even if Harry was right.

Soon enough, Harry had three fingers knuckles deep inside of Louis and he was jerking him so fast that Louis was a moaning, whimpering mess, so ready to cum, until Harry stopped and let go, emitting a whine from the blue-eyed boy. “Dick.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll give you that, be patient, babe,” Harry said cheekily as he pulled his fingers out. If Louis wasn’t waiting to get fucked, he would’ve kicked Harry right in the balls. Instead, he just rolled onto his back, kicking off his pants and spreading his legs as Harry let a string of spit fall from his lips and onto his cock, smearing it all over.

The sight alone made Harry’s heart flutter for the second time that night. For a moment again, he was filled with adoration for the other boy, and if he was the kind to let his walls crash down and be vulnerable in front of others, he would’ve showed his tears. Instead, he blinked them away before they had the chance to build up and swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, his hand running along Louis’ cock and then up his stomach, lifting up his shirt till his chest was exposed, leaning down to press a kiss to the middle of it, a little bit to the right, where his heart is, “this is for all the times I wanted to love you but couldn’t,” he whispered, voice barely audible, but Louis heard it. And Harry felt the way the lad’s heart picked up, could hear his thoughts of regret and all the apologies he wanted to spill, but Harry was having none of it. He wasn’t going to let someone in after they broke his heart – even if it only happened once.

Harry leaned back again, positioning the head with Louis’ entrance and slowly, he pushed in, mouth open with soft breaths escaping, watching the way he disappeared inside of him. Once he was all the way in, he stilled for a few seconds, his hands running along Louis’ thigh, who wrapped them around his waist, nails digging into the skin and dragging down right before he pulled his hips back and then snapped them forward, speaking through gritted teeth above Louis’ whimper, “And this is for shattering my fucking heart.”

Harry was in the wrong, too. He broke Louis’ heart, too, and Louis wanted to remind him of that. He wanted to bring it up, but he was so lost in the feeling of finally being filled again after years, especially by somebody that he still loved somewhere deep down.

Harry’s hands were on Louis’ hips, gripping them harshly enough to leave their own marks, ploughing into him, feeling the way his walls engulfed his cock, nothing filling his ears but the sound of their skin and Louis’ seemingly uncontrollable noises. The smaller lad’s lips were parted, wet, eyes fluttered shut and lashes shadowing over his cheekbones. Harry wanted to kiss him.

He pushed that thought back, slamming into him once at a different angle and bottoming out, and the cry that ripped its way out the back of Louis’ throat, the way he arched his back and his hands were grabbing for anything on the ground were enough to let Harry know that he hit him exactly where he’s sensitive the most.

Wanting to play with that, to absolutely mess with him and drive him fucking crazy, Harry didn’t move. He stilled, cockhead pressed against Louis’ prostate, watching the way Louis’ chest and stomach stuttered. He began circling his hips, grinding against the bundle of nerves, watching him tremble, feeling his thighs quiver underneath his grip and around his hips, his noises and loud, shaky ‘fuckfuckfuck’s satisfying him enough to not pull back.

With all the willpower he had, Harry kept stimulating him. So much that Louis was crying, cheeks wet, starting to try and pull his hips away, but Harry’s hold on him didn’t allow it. It hurt, it was too much, but he loved it, they both did, and Louis’ cock was leaking and he was begging – begging and begging Harry to just _move_.

“You’re not always gonna get what you want, babe,” Harry whispered, shaky himself, wanting nothing more than to go back to fucking him. And after a few more seconds, that’s what he did, but kept hitting Louis in that same spot, which didn’t help in Louis’ case.

The smaller boy was a mess, a whimpering, moaning, crying, writhing mess, and Harry fucking lived for it. It wasn’t long before he was coming, thick, pulsing out and landing right on his stomach, his nails digging into the soil, whilst Harry was still fucking him, but not as steady as earlier – he was sloppy, and they both knew Harry was close enough.

Heat kept bubbling in his lower abdomen until he was coming, deep inside the smaller boy. He stilled, filling him up, just like they always did years back. “That’s one more last piece of me for you,” he whispered weakly as he was coming down from his high, riding it out, hands coming up to rest on Louis’ waist instead, hold surprisingly gentle. Finally, he pulled out, ignoring the urge to lick whatever was oozing out of Louis’ hole. Instead, he scooped it up with his fingers and shoved it back inside (roughly, just to make a point), earning a pained whimper from the blue-eyed boy from the sensitivity, but clutching around him nonetheless.

Without a second word or thought, Harry let go of him and sat up, pulling his pants back on.

“Where—where are you going?” Louis asked a little shakily, still trying to comprehend what just happened, trembling hands pushing him up.

“Going,” Harry responded simply, one of his hands coming up to press against his own chest, right where he felt the ache.

“Going?”

“Going.”

“After…after this?” Louis asked in disbelief, looking at Harry with the exact same expression from the day he walked in on him with another person. Hurt, disappointed, angry, but most of all – betrayed.

“After this,” Harry repeated, confirming it, looking Louis in the eye as if he didn’t care about him anymore. Both of them knew that wasn’t true. “After everything.”

 


End file.
